


Reciprocity

by cirnellie



Series: Spy Games [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirnellie/pseuds/cirnellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Ficlet] After a month of Illya's "safety exercises", Napoleon gets a little of his own back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocity

**Author's Note:**

> Context for this is in [Part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5937469). (In a nutshell: Illya has been randomly ambushing Napoleon and tying him up, all for the noble cause of preparing him for potential THRUSH kidnappings.)

"Well," says Napoleon, brightly. "It looks like I've gotten a little better at this, after all."

Illya glares up at him from where he's curled on the floor at Napoleon's feet in the tiny broom closet, wrists and ankles tightly bound. "I was just giving you a chance," he sniffs haughtily. "You would never have managed it otherwise."

"Ha!" Napoleon tries (not very hard) and fails to not sound smug. "A _month_ of you jumping out at me from every corner of this godforsaken building, _tying me up_ and leaving me in the _worst possible places_ \- last week, if I'd taken two seconds longer to free myself, Mr. Waverly would have opened his office door and _stepped on me_ \- "

"Ah, good," says Illya, unruffled. "So you've improved your timing by three seconds, then."

" - and I've gotten _much_ more familiar with this blasted broom closet than I'd quite like. Did you know that there are _three_ ," he pauses to glare down at the blond, "huge spiders living in this closet, one of which has built a very large and intricate web _right_ over where you left me three days ago?"

His partner rolls his eyes. "Stop being a baby, Napoleon," he says patiently, calm as you please, looking for all the world like he's sunbathing on a beach instead of lying on the floor of a not particularly clean broom closet, thoroughly trussed up and completely at Napoleon's mercy, all messy blond hair and slim planes and compact lines of muscle - Napoleon mentally shakes himself and forcibly realigns his thoughts to the matter at hand, which is - what was the point of all this again?

"THRUSH," Illya helpfully reminds him, "will be very unpleasantly surprised should they try to kidnap you. Again." He looks positively delighted at the prospect.

Napoleon scowls. "Well, now you can get some practice too. After all," he reminds his partner, "when THRUSH come for me, they're usually looking for you, too."

"Mm," Illya looks up at him, meeting his gaze directly. "Yes, they do seem to consider us a...package deal, do they not?"

Illya's eyes are very blue in the dim light. Napoleon blinks, realizing that he's staring, and refocuses on a much safer pile of brooms just behind Illya's head instead.

"Ah, anyway." He gestures vaguely at the ropes. "You'd better work on getting out of those. I do have a duty to make sure my partner stays in top condition, after all."

"Hmm," says Illya thoughtfully. "I suppose you do." He darts another glance up at Napoleon, suddenly coy.

Napoleon swallows hard. Seeing his partner all tied up, looking up at him from under long lashes, just the barest hint of a smile playing about full lips, is doing strange things to his insides. He coughs, stalling for time, and sternly tells his insides to behave themselves.

Illya tongue darts out to wet his lips. Napoleon's gaze follows the movement, mesmerized. He takes a breath - 

Footsteps, and a voice from just outside the broom closet make them both jump, breaking the spell. 

"Has Mr. Solo shown up for his briefing yet?"

"Not yet, sir, but it's still a minute before ten."

"Hmph. Well, give him a call and make sure he shows up on time. I can't be waiting around all day." Two pairs of footsteps fade down the hallway.

"Well," says Napoleon, recovering magnificently. "Duty calls." He winks at Illya and slips jauntily out of the broom closet, shutting the door carefully behind him.

 

End.


End file.
